Four Dreams In A Row
by soliloquye
Summary: "They fall in love the way people die in fires: quickly and painfully, but to them it seems like an eternity, and they can feel nothing but the heat." Scorpius/Rose


The first thing he had noticed about her was her hair. It was hard to ignore, no matter how hard he tried, and she wore it loose, tumbling down her back like streaks of auburn. His first thought was, in a typical Scorpius fashion, _how ridiculously frizzy- hasn't she ever heard of product_? And, as he made eye contact, it became very clear that she had and she didn't care. Her freckles made her dark brown eyes stand out even more against her pale skin, and there was something frightfully intense about them. He didn't know why he immediately thought of a wild animal, but when she saw him staring and smiled, it hit him: her teeth were white and her hair was red, and with the wind whipping it around, she looked like a wolf with its fangs stained a bloody crimson. When he got to know her, he would think on that moment and laugh, because never had a metaphor been so accurate. She had ripped his heart out the moment he saw her, all those years ago- it had just taken him till she ripped his throat out, too, to realize it.

x

At first, she hated him. She saw him, looked up to where James was bouncing on his toes (waiting for her to _hurry it up already and get on the damn train_, because even when he was only 12, her favorite cousin cursed like a sailor) and scrunched up her nose, uttering with frightful clarity the words that made her heart thrum with excitement- "I hate him." Then she made eye contact with the strange blond and smiled, eyes on fire in that way that made people stutter and back away from her, nearly giggling at the expression on his face. She'd wait to get onto the train and out of his sight to throw her head back and laugh, but laugh she did, and James rolled his eyes. "You're so _weird_, Rosie. What're you cackling at?" She could hardly say she was laughing at Scorpius Malfoy and his white-blond hair and his clear blue eyes and his light smattering of freckles and the disinterested expression on his face giving way to confusion for a sliver of a second, so instead she tilted her head and grinned mischievously. "None of your business, Jamesie, and I _told_ you not to call me that. C'mon, let's find the others!" Then she ran off, her laughter clear as a bell and ringing out again, because 11-year-olds have trouble focusing on these things for long, and who cares about some stupid boy your father told you to do better than when you have a cousin to race down a train?

x

In the beginning, they were just children. This might make their first impressions of each other seem silly, or inaccurate, or a million other things that would trivialize these conceptions of each other that would never quite fade, but this should not be the case. Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy would have been much better off if they had been the kind of people that listen to instinct, but they weren't, and they didn't, and maybe that's for the best- if they were, there would be no story to tell.

* * *

Rose is sorted into Gryffindor. Nobody's surprised except Albus, who watches her come over to the table he sat down at just a few minute ago with a troubled expression: his cousin may be brave, but she's far too cunning (dangerous, if he admits it to himself, even though they're both only first years) to not have the hat realize that she belongs in a green and silver tie. Her brilliant smile is all the explanation he needs, in the end; she wants to be in Gryffindor and so she is. She belongs there just as much, he supposes, if you ignore the way her eyes dance in the light of the candles. James is there, so she's with her best friend, and her father will be proud, but still, he feels a foreboding sense in his stomach that only increases through the years as she gets aggressive in her cigarettes and her smiles and her lies. His little sister may be similar, but Lily revels in her house, her uniqueness, her red lipstick and long legs while Rose hides herself away, trying not to disappoint- who? James? Her father? Her little brother who she's never quite liked but loves all the same? Or is it herself, somehow, who she's scared of? That's what he fears, and that's why he tries to keep an eye on her. He fails, of course, but he's tried, so he tells himself he shouldn't feel guilty.

x

She does well in school. It's to be expected; after all, her mother _is_ Hermione Granger. She beats Scorpius roughly half the time, and they're fiercely competitive about it, but around 5th year it changes. Their sneering insults in the hallway are accompanied by subtle smiles, their disdainful glares turn into smirking stares, and it's only a matter of time till they collide.

It's during a party, of all things, a stupid party after a quidditch match. He's more than a little buzzed, and somewhere along he slaps Luciano on the shoulder and shouts that he's going out for a smoke. His friend just nods, too enraptured with watching Chrys dance to say anything, and Scorpius stumbles out of the Slytherin common room, fully intent on finding a window or a classroom or somewhere he can enjoy his cigarettes in peace. He doesn't anticipate running into the redhead who's been ruining his life for the past few years in an abandoned classroom, and he _especially_ doesn't expect her to silently look over at him and hand him her half-done cigarette, exhaling smoke and tilting her head. "Scorpius," she says, like his name is a prayer, "Why are you here?" Her expression is blank, but her eyes (always wild, always restless, always unreadable) are more vulnerable than he's ever seen them. She takes a deep breath, looking out the window, and continues. "Of all places, here. Tonight. How do these things _happen_?" He's not sure what to say, then, and it doesn't even cross his mind to tell her that he was only out for a smoke, of course. He simply drops the cigarette to the ground and pulls her mouth to his, fingers threading through her red hair that always made him think of fire. She tastes like cigarettes and mint and absolution, and when she kisses back, he thinks he's found the only God he needs.

x

They fall in love the way people die in fires: quickly and painfully, but to them it seems like an eternity, and they can feel nothing but the heat. They don't hold hands, but they start studying together instead of from different corners of the library, and they spend most nights entangled with each other, nothing but sheets keeping the outside world from ruining their dream. The word 'love' doesn't leave their lips, and when they leave for summer holidays their letters are brief and concise, but when they see each other again it's only a matter of minutes before a train compartment is locked and the curtains shut and they're touching once more. It takes a while for her to realize that his mind entranced her before his body ever did. Once she does, nothing changes.

She spends less time with James, he spends less time with Luciano, they don't write their families as much, people around them are _worried_- but they're happy. As happy as two deeply unhappy people can be, in any case, and they make it work, so it's okay. He tells her it would take an apocalypse to ruin what they have but he knows that they're as fragile as porcelain and he knows she knows it too: she'll wake up in the middle of the night to check that he's still there, and that says enough. In the end, he's the one who fucks it up, and (to him, at least) that's hardly surprising.

* * *

He fucks her cousin. He gets ridiculously, unbelievable drunk at a party in 7th year after they fight over something stupid like which dorm they'll stay in that night or why he can't come home with her over the holidays, and little Lily Luna is looking for something to prove. She's just turned 16 and her bright hazel eyes are already dull with self-loathing and prescription medication, and she looks like the girl he loves in the dying light and a part of him wants to hurt Rose, the part of him that he spends most nights awake trying to forget, so he sleeps with her. The next morning he wakes up and Lily's gone, but he knows she's going to tell Rose, the same way he knows he'll never forgive himself. All he remembers is Lily whispering about the man she really wants (_I'm in love with him, you know, I've been in love with him for forever and I'll never stop, I wish he would love me back, I wish a lot of things, I wish he wasn't too old, I wish I wasn't too young, why don't dreams come true, Scorpius?_) till he fell asleep, and he's almost as sorry for her unrequited love as he is for his requited one. Almost, but not quite- he's selfish, as he reminds himself, else he wouldn't be in this situation.

x

"Why are you still here?" She chokes out, words made almost unintelligible by her hysteric sobbing. His face is blank, and this confirmation that he doesn't care- _of course he doesn't care about you, you foolish girl, he doesn't care about anything, you should have listened_- makes her cries grow all the louder. He doesn't move, though, and after a few more moments of wailing as her body shakes like she's in the midst of an earthquake (in the end, she's somewhat of a natural disaster herself, she'll think later when a martini's in her hand and her own cries are no longer ringing through her head like church bells) her voice raises to a shriek and she screams- _"Leave_!"This newfound rage scares even her, but it's all-encompassing, and she looks for something to throw through blurry eyes. He just barely dodges the copy of _War and Peace_ that was so conveniently on her bedside table, and the smack of the book against the wall is loud- shocking enough to stop her cries for the moment. There's nothing left, after that, no sound but her own panting and the slam of the door as he finally storms off, and as she falls back onto her bed, she curls up into a ball, trying to convince herself that this silence doesn't make her feel like he took her sanity with him.

x

He thinks he wants her back. He thinks he _needs_ her back. He thinks a lot of things, in the dying light of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, and nobody disturbs him except Luciano and Chrys. They only speak to him when they're forcing him to eat, after a while, because he snaps at them one too many times, and they tell him they can only help him if he's willing to help himself. (He isn't.) Scorpius is alone, and he thinks he would mind it more if he didn't deserve it so much.

He doesn't see her for weeks, but when he does, her eyes are blank and hard. He opens his mouth to speak, but she brushes past him before he can, walking a bit faster so she won't have to be near at him anymore. He swallows hard, mind screaming apologies and _i-love-you_'s so loud he can't hear his own thoughts outside of the constant thrum of regret. He thinks he might chase after her. He thinks he might tell her how he feels. He thinks he could have, he should have, he would have-

He continues walking.

x

The N.E.W.T.'s pass by quicker than she thought possible, but when there's nothing to do but ruminate on lost love and study, they aren't too difficult. Rose wakes up in the morning and thinks of how wonderful getting her own flat will be, she eats lunch and imagines the St. Mungo's training program, she goes to sleep at night hoping she'll finally be able to fall asleep without picturing Scorpius next to her. It's a routine, broken only by smoking breaks after curfew to the classroom where they first kissed- she can't let him go, and memories are all she has, so what's the problem with a little luxury? After a while, she can pretend it's just another place to smoke, even if she never truly believes it.

The day before their last at Hogwarts, he finds her there. He's avoided the classroom like the plague, just like he's avoided every memory of her like the plague, but he figures that if there's any time for nostalgia, it's now. The last thing he expects to find her there, cigarette in hand, looking almost the exact same as she did those years ago. The only difference is her cheekbones, hallowed out by lost weight, and he hates himself so much he could die in that moment because _what has he done to her_? She doesn't move, though, just stares at him, and he makes a sort of choking sound that would be funny if he weren't the one making it. "R-Rose," he gasps, "there are no words- I'm so _sorry_-"

When he gets the words out, they sound like they're coming from a man begging for his life, and he's not asking for forgiveness but she can almost imagine it in the tone of his voice, so she beckons for him to come closer. He does, but it's wary, and she places a hand on his cheek, staring earnestly into his eyes. "I don't think I'll ever be in love with anyone else, Scorpius," she whispers, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it. "And nobody should live without love."

His throat closes up and he leans into her hand. "I lo-"

But her lips are already on his.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm not quite sure what this is- it just sort of _happened_, and don't worry, it's confusing to me too- but I hope you enjoyed it anyways. It's supposed to be, like... vignettes, I guess? Pieces of their story. The storyline's a bit rushed, because I wrote it in the space of a few hours, but I'm fairly satisfied with it. Please review! I always love feedback :)


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